Author's Note: Yeah, I keep making these crazy things and advance-warning you of long chapters. And this is no different. So get comfortable and enjoy. And wait for Alexander Luthor's uppance to come.

The Antarctic. Alexander Luthor's Fortress.

My earpiece buzzes with the activity on the other end. The transmitter on the Panopticon worked perfectly. I tap a finger to my ear and approach Batman's cell. Owlman's voice crackles across the line.

"I'm moving Luthor to your Fortress, Ultraman. He'll be…safer there."

"Fine."

And herein is one among many failings of the Syndicate. Too occupied are they with their own problems that they neglect to check in on me. It's a mentality they're too aware of but choose to sit on—for whatever reasons. A vocal grant of clemency only goes so far before attitudes start to change. I'm certainly not about to wait for Ultraman to entertain happy thoughts, and so I must change first. To gain the upper hand, to establish supremacy. And while I'm still able, to give the man something to cry about.

"They're moving him," I speak quickly. Audio processors outside the cell will carry the sound inside and allow Batman to hear me. It's a system designed to allow confidentiality--even in front of the inmate in question. "We must accelerate our plans."

Inside the cell, behind the shields comprised of pirated energy signatures from the Volthoom entity, Batman is hunched over a lab table. He peers down through a microscope. With a soldering iron in hand, he painstakingly tinkers with a green and silver colored disk on the table below. I remove one of my gauntlets and press my hand to the control pad outside the cell. The display switches from red to green and the shields lower. I step behind Batman and look over his shoulder cautiously. The move gives a chance to see the scars-of-battle cosmetics he's applied to make it look like the Syndicate got their hands on him. His costume is ripped in several places, revealing the Kevlar-weave armor beneath the suit itself, and the cape is essentially a rag. Bruises and cuts surround the exposed parts of his face, and dried blood flakes from a wide slice on his cheek.

"That's impressive cosmetic work."

"It's not cosmetics," he says curtly. I scoff at the mention; interesting that he would willingly injure himself in order to further a carefully-finessed lie. Truly, it is dedication to a goal.

"What are you doing?" I ask offhandedly.

"Working on a back-up. If this plan of yours fails, I'll still be able to get Luthor back."

Alexander recoils a bit and raises an eyebrow. "I didn't know you cared."

Batman finishes his work on the microscope, slips the soldering iron into a pocket on his belt and turns to Luthor. "I don't. But I'm not going to leave him here."

My eyes narrow and I cross my arms.

"I respect that," I say with a creeping smile. I extend an open hand to Batman, suggesting a handshake. "Come, there's little time."

The Flying Fortress. Owlman.

"God below, would you pick up the damn pace, Stewart?"

"I'm moving as fast as I can, Owlman," Power Ring says irritably. As soon as the words escape his mouth, I suspect it's time for another ass-kicking. He and Johnny have had quite the chip on their shoulder lately, and it's about time to fix it. "You have any bright ideas I'd like to hear 'em."

Power Ring has an unconscious Luthor over his shoulder in a lazy fireman's carry. I suspect he doesn't really care if the bald man falls from his hold, and I can't disagree. Luthor is valuable, but as not much more than a time-waster; he gives me something to do in between sessions with Lois. And after the failed car battery operation, I'm ready for a change of pace.

Problem is, I don't get one.

I lead the way up to the Main Deck, up a flight of stairs from the lower levels. And as soon as I see the deck, I see them. Ultraman, engaged in some kind of stupid feline stare-down with four other people. Sinestro's there, unsurprisingly. And one of them looks suspiciously like that Captain Marvel character, or whatever he called himself, that we killed last week—only this one's dressed in black. And the other two—the giant shirtless one wearing green and the one with a shotgun aimed at Ultraman's self-righteous forehead—well, they're a mystery. Lucky for me that they seem focused on Ultraman. Too focused.

"What is this?" I ask. It's a stupid question, as I'm making my presence known. But honestly, Ultraman could take three of them. Leave me the one with the shotgun. Ultraman and the goon squad turn to me and stare dumfounded for three seconds. I hold up my arms innocently. "Well?"

It's the distraction Ultraman needs to launch himself at the shirtless pointy-eared one. Sinestro facilitates that, and the black Captain Marvel heads for Power Ring. I sidestep the event. Power Ring slides Luthor off his shoulder and rolls with the Black Marvel's tackle. I watch them fly over the deck railing, trading blows as they go. And I hear that shotgun cock itself at the base of my skull. I arch my head back and roll my eyes.

"You don't want to shoot me."

"A bullet begs use, Owlman. Specifically on you."

"So you know me," I say expectantly. "What do the men in white coats call you then?"

"Deathstroke," he says flatly. I manage a scoff. You just can't make this stuff up.

"Then, Deathstroke," I say with my most patronizing tone. "Care to press your luck?"

Ultraman and Amazo.

The android had taken to calling himself Amazo, whatever the hell that meant. And it was interesting fighting him—because the fight lasted precisely 74 seconds, partly because he had my kind of strength. It consisted of he and I trading blows and we tumbled from the Panopticon's shielded main deck to the surface of the Moon. With a calculated punch, he knocked me through the shields and into space. I tumbled awkwardly for a time but righted myself and spotted the android. Waiting a few meters ahead of me. This damnable Amazo hovering motionless, staring at me with some antichristing smirk.

"Come on! Fight me!"

And he launched himself at me, a fist extended before me. It's a stroke of luck that I remembered to use my x-ray vision. It's also a stroke of luck that I found hew wasn't human—this one was a machine. So I decided to make my own sunny day and his too. Kick on the heat vision and fry him up good.

It was too easy. The kind of easy that smacks of distraction. I regard my handiwork for a moment and turn back to the Fortress.

Alexander Luthor.

Batman trails me, still tinkering with the disc in his hands, as we make our way to my ship. In my earpiece, Brainiac speaks to me. I suspect his offer to help Superman reverse over went as planned. This is good news, of course. It gives the Syndicate a distraction battling Superman and whoever he brought with him, and it gives me time to further my own ends. A good day, all in all.

"Brainiac?"

"Alexander. I calculated you would break radio silence."

"Yes, fine," I say dismissively. "Are the charges planted?"

"Affirmative. Detonation in 7 minutes. Do not waste time in ferrying the passengers back to my ship."

"You know, Brainiac, you could try being nice for once. If it's even in your programming."

Owlman and Deathstroke.

After back flipping over Deathstroke's head, I quickly disarm him by jamming a knee in his groin, and a right hook across his face. The shotgun falls out of his grip and into mine. While he falls to the floor, I regard the gun for a moment, and toss it over the railing nearby. With any luck, some lucky vagrant will pick it up and get the hint.

I rush this Deathstroke character, jamming a Razorang-forked fist into his leg; keep him from moving and I can win much easier. Despite not needing the advantage, the damage to his knee allows me a few seconds to think ahead. He grimaces briefly as air rushes from his lungs, but still manages a roundhouse kick with his free leg. It catches me in the ribs. I stumble back a bit, catch myself, and try to ignore the pain. I pull more razorangs from my belt and lunge at Deathstroke.

He manages to roll out of the way, tripping me. I fall to the floor with a thud, my vision going fuzzy for a moment. When it clears again, Deathstroke is laying over top of me lazily, angling a bowie knife against my neck.

"Good," I rasp. "You're about as good as Bruce, when he decided to fight me."

Deathstroke grabs me by the cape-lengths around my collar and brings me close to his face. "I'm better than Bruce Wayne," Deathstroke replies grimly. Seems someone takes offense to a Batman comparison. I glance over his shoulder, and see a spot on the horizon. I snicker curtly.

Superman. Ultraman's Flying Fortress; the lower Observation Deck.

Ahead of me, Deathstroke straddles Owlman—surprisingly gaining the upperhand. But Owlman doesn't look terribly interested in fighting Slade anyway. Even through Deathstroke's pummeling, Owlman's staring past him….at me.

Someone went to a lot of trouble to orchestrate this. Someone who wanted me to come into this universe—to draw me away from home, where I belong. The question is why? What would they stand to gain?

I land just beyond the railing, stopping for a moment to regard Owlman and Deathstroke.

"You can go, Superman," Deathstroke says as he pummels Owlman. "This one is mine." I look away and shake my head incredulously. It's still a wonder to me how Deathstroke lives for what he does. In some strange way though—

Wait…a Heartbeat. Faint.

There. The far side of the deck. I lift off the ground and head for the source of the heartbeat: a huddled body near the railing. Only on closer inspection—not thinking to use my microscopic vision—do I see who it really is.

Lex. What's he doing here?

Before I can answer, a body obstructs the way to Lex. It's him, floating down from the open space in the fortress above. Ultraman. The mirror version of myself, but more…sadistic. He's sloppy—careless. It's a loophole.

Ultraman.

"Alright," Superman says, gritting his teeth. His hands form into fists. "Where is he?"

Ultraman smiles and cocks his head at me. "My dear country cousin, whoever do you mean? Surely you only came for Luthor?"

"You know why I'm here," the Man of Steel says. He's definitely getting impatient. "Give me Batman and I'll allow you to carry on your business."

"Allow? You're not in a position to allow me anything." I keep the smile, but try lowering it into a grimace. The ever-reliable menacing look. "You can have your friend when you pry him away from my cold, dead hands."

Superman's eyes spark to life, the excess heat curling away in black smoky wisps. "I'll burn this station to ashes before I let you have him."

"Let's see," I challenge with an amused grin. In an instant, I launch myself at Superman and land five successive hits across the Man of Steel's face. The oversized light sphere above us shatters with the final blow. Amid raining shard of glass and sparks, the Man of Steel and I trade blows—echoing thunder exploding outward from us.

I knock Superman away from me, but instead of coming back with another hit, he flies away. A hundred meters away, I see him turn around and rocket straight for me. I barely have time to raise an arm before he slams a fist into my chest at untold miles per hour. The ensuing sonic boom shakes the entire Fortress and I ponder it falling out of orbit before Superman slams into me again. This time the hypersonic receiver in my chest plate, under the U diamond, shatters and I tumble away. The world goes silly for a moment before Superman grabs me by the cape bunched around my collar and unleashes the heat vision. His eyes burn a fiery red as the beams come for me and his jaw locks open, as if screaming.

My own heat vision fires to life, and it seems we've caught ourselves in a good old-fashioned stalemate. Neither one of us can win, but neither of us wants to give up.

Until my peripheral vision picks up a flash beyond the Fortress. Instinctively, the heat vision kicks off. Superman follows suit, and I lift upward in the sky, to an altitude where I can see the moon more clearly.

"What just happened?" I say to myself.

And almost in response, a black spot makes itself known on the surface of the Moon. Exactly where the Panopticon should be. Where Lois should be…

I cast Superman a doubtful look, and lift into the sky.

Superman.

I watch Ultraman go, and head back to the Fortress' broken observation deck. The surface is cracked from the effects of the sonic boom, and some parts dangle from their anchors, fluttering in the wind and waiting to fall to Earth. Somewhere to my right Deathstroke and Owlman are both unconscious, huddled on the floor.

I kneel beside Lex and turn him over slowly to face me. I pat his cheek softly, trying to bring him around. I know I've made contact when his eyes flutter open and dart around.

"Lex, are you all right? What happened?"

"Owlman," he murmurs weakly. His voice is hollow, barely understandable.

"Where is he, Lex? Where's Batman?"

"Batman? No…there is no Batman here. They only brought me here…"

They? I lay my hands on his shoulder and stare him square in the eyes. Lex glances at me, his eyelids flutter for a moment, and then his head sinks back against the floor. "What happened, Lex?"

"Everything looks…different…"

"Lex, I need your help. They've got Batman somewhere and I have to find him. What do you know?"

"I…I don't…know..."

This is useless. I kneel and bring one of Lex's arms around my shoulder, lifting him off the floor and over my shoulder in a fireman's carry.

And I try to find my way out of this place. Because he didn't trust his team-mates.

I hear a buzzing in my ear—the communicator. It'll be Brainiac.

"Superman."

I tap my ear and try to network focus between what Brainiac has to say and Lex's condition.

"What is it?"

"We are engaging the Syndicate on the surface. I felt you wished to be kept apprised."

"Yes, fine. How are you holding up?"

"Moderately so. Black Adam has engaged Power Ring and Sinestro is keeping Johnny Quick occupied."

"Then we only need to worry about Superwoman."

"And where is she?"

"My scanners indicated a single life sign on the Panopticon," Brainiac says flatly. Some part of me still expects him to show a little emotion—for what that's worth. "It is possible she teleported there shortly before detonation."

"Detonation?" I ask. "By who?"

"Unknown," Brainiac replies. "I will investigate."

"Fine. Is your Skull Ship in the atmosphere?"

"Over Centropolis."

"All right. I'm bringing Lex to you, and then I'm going to find out who destroyed the Panopticon."

Continued...